


echoes in the night

by deathandindignitybedamned



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Codependency, Consensual, Dick POV, Guilt, Incest, Isolation, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, in Dick's thoughts and he's conflicted to an extent, reflective, the incest plays a large role in the story and is repeatedly brought up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-06 21:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17352794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathandindignitybedamned/pseuds/deathandindignitybedamned
Summary: a place where they belong





	echoes in the night

“Hah...”

“Haahnn....”

“Hnngg.....fuck.”

There was the steady slap of skin against skin and the feel of heat inside and around him, overwhelming him.

Dick groaned, his back all sharp angles and lines, muscles tightly coiled as he dug his clenched fists into the sheets. “-aggg....” Dick gave a few jerky breaths, released and sucked back in just as shallowly. A shudder ran through the line of his body just as a hand slid up his chest, rubbing his pectoral before they came around to tug at his nipple.

Dick made a choked sound.

Another hand rubbed at his stomach, stroking gently.

“Are you okay, Dick?” Bruce asked, his body unusually relaxed, legs bracketing Dick’s hips, one leg bent at the knee, the other lying prone.

Dick gave a slight jerk of his head before he returned back to his distracted position, eyes dilated and half lidded. He was surrounded by their heat, captured and contained, and he didn't dare to move a single inch yet. If he did, he might just die, and Dick knew what almost dying felt like.

There was a touch to Dick’s hand. He flinched at that just as a hand came to unpeel his fist and slide in, lifting his hand off the bed. Damian wrapped his arm, hand held in Dick’s, around Dick’s chest pressing it close to him.

After a small glance, Bruce followed suit as he pried Dick’s hand off the mattress to bend his arm, leaving their locked hands over Bruce’s abdomen.

“Father, I’m going to move.”

Bruce nodded in either permission or acknowledgement.

And Dick jolted forward with Damian’s first movement, shoving Dick into Bruce’s tight, wet heat, the older man so soft and open for him that Dick had nearly come within the first few minutes. He hadn't realized it would be like this, Bruce who was usually so stiff and hard, practically pulling him in. It was obscene, the thought of Bruce wanting him. It left Dick’s legs feeling weak as his mind scrambled to handle the thought.

Like Damian could read his mind, he twisted Dick's nipple, hard, for his attention.

Dick let out a broken curse, trying to twist away from Damian's hand but was held steady between the two of them, both of their grips on his hands tightening.

And then he pulled out, the smooth feeling of his slide out from Dick and then the feeling of him ramming back in, to just scrape against Dick's prostate. Dick clenched around him, leaning forward and deeper into Bruce and he couldn't contain the litany of moans sliding past his lips as he was jerked back and then shoved forward with each move.

"Father, how're you feeling," Damian asked, nearly leisurely, his breath hot on the nape of Dick's neck, as he scraped his teeth over the bared skin.

"I'm fine. It seems like Dick is the one you should be concerned about."

Bruce's voice held just that hint of tension within it's evenness that had Dick keeling over to unfocusedly mouth at the man's skin, tracing his scars with his tongue desperately, like a man dying of thirst.

He sucked hard and wet on Bruce's nipple, making the man jerk under him and tighten obscenely.

Teasing. They were teasing him.

There was a pause and then they both let go of Dick's hands for Damian to plant them on Dick's hips and for Bruce to put them at his sides, planting his feet for leverage as they began to move in tandem. After that it was just the blur of Damian's thick cock spreading him open over and over again and the tight velvet heat of Bruce's hole determined to squeeze Dick dry. The rub of the back of Bruce's thigh against Dick's hips, smooth skin, the jut of Damian's hips pressing into Dick's ass - his chest pressed against Dick's back, practically layering himself on him, engulfing him.

“I’m going to...I’m going to...” Dick panted, eyes watering.

There was a high flush to his cheeks when Bruce and Damian called him at the same time.

“Dick.”

“Grayson.”

Damian thrust into him roughly just as Bruce dug his feet into the mattress and clenched around Dick, and if they'd given him a second more, he might've choked out a laugh at the way their words together made his full name. Maybe they should make it a foursome so someone could say ‘John.’ Maybe Dick should moaned ‘John.’

“G-od,” Dick stuttered, the tips of his hair swaying with him.

He came, spilling into the condom, hazy mind thinking of when Bruce might let him come inside him the next time.

It was only a second later before Bruce squeezed around Dick and spilled onto his chest with a grunt, lips parted, and Damian came soon after, spilling into Dick. When Damian pulled out, Dick could feel his come follow and drip from his hole. Some of it slid down his thighs, leaving him a mess as Damian sloppily sucked on Dick's skin, probably leaving marks.

Dick fell forward onto his elbows to press his sweaty forehead against Bruce's chest. He found himself eye level with the thin curls on the man chest and untangled his fingers from Bruce's to run his fingers through the hairs. He made a noise when Bruce shifted, still in the older man. Damian, who'd fallen to the side, his head leaning on Bruce's arm, was lying on his side, and he slid his fingers along the sticky fluid dripping down Dick’s thighs. He moved to rub Dicks swollen hole as he slid two fingers in to push more come out to rub along his rim.

"Damian," Dick grit out, pressing his face into Bruce's chest. A few centimeters more and he'd be lying with his face in Bruce's come. It drew him back to when Bruce had quietly told him to lick it up and Dick had, cheeks aflame, while Damian had sucked him off. It made Dick jerk and groan as he dug his fingers into the mass of Bruce's muscle, indenting it.

Damian didn't reply, there was only his steady breathing as he ran his come covered fingers along Dick's crack and rubbed his tailbone before sliding his fingers back into the warmth between Dick's cheeks, Damian shoved his hand between Dick's thighs and reached around to take the base of Dick's cock, pulling him out of Bruce with a wet sound from the lube. He continued his ministrations, toying with Dick and twisting his fingers inside.

"Damian," Dick said again with more irritation, unable to hide the breathiness from his voice.

Damian didn't respond again. He only shifted closer to the two of them and tugged at Dick until he was on top of Damian, arms bracketing his head.

Dick met Damian's dilated eyes and managed a small frown.

Damian only closed his eyes and pulled Dick down for a kiss, sweet and lingering, the way he tugged at Dick's lips and licked inside him. Dick could feel his cock stirring with interest again, and he must be damned with the way he's been constantly spoiling himself. Dick slid his hand under the back of Damian' skull and tilted the younger man's head back for a better angle, licking in until Damian jerked under him, nails digging into Dick's back.

When Dick finally pulled back, a little lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, it was to a slight pop and the sight of Damian's red lips that the younger man licked before his eyes flickered over Dick again.

He reached down for Dick's cock and gave it a few slow tugs as he said with a rasp in his voice, "Why don't you come again, Grayson?"

And then suddenly there was a shadow over them, Bruce on his knees, hovering over Dick. Dick glanced at him from his peripheral view, his hulking figure and the sharp planes of his exacting expression.

"We have a lot of time," Bruce murmured, pressing nips and kisses into Dick's shoulder blades and then moving down to his lower back. His breath, hot along Dick's ass, and Damian hand gripping the base of Dick's cock tightly, his other sliding up Dick's chest to rub at his nipple, was enough for Dick to close his eyes and let himself fall.

 

 

 

Dick groaned, stretching awake at the murmur of voices, basking in being awash in the thick weight and warmth of his blankets.

"Don't wake him, Damian. You pushed him too far last night."

A scoff. "He only orgasmed twice."

"You milked him, Damian. He didn't even have the opportunity to enjoy it."

"He seemed to enjoy everything else. Moreover... it wasn't as if you made any attempt to stop me."

"...One day he's going to get a heart attack." The sound of leather soles on the floor. Dick would guess Bruce’s Captoe Stuarts. The clink of cufflinks and Dick can picture Damian putting them on Bruce’s cuffs. Probably the usual silver W’s.

"Far more likely it'll be you, Father."

Quiet and then the sounds of lips against each other, breaths and then, Damian. "Neither of you will die before me."

"We don't plan on it, no."

The whisper of silk, Bruce's tie and jacket. Dick knew the feel of it under his hands. He would bet on the peaked lapels and matte black if he had to.

"Have a good meeting, Father."

The sound of a kiss.

"...Thank you, Damian. When Dick wakes up, tell him that he needs to check up on the data collection from the security cameras."

"I will."

Dick lied there, still, as Bruce quietly walked out the door of their room. He closed the door with a quiet click, and it wasn't until a moment later that Dick could hear Damian's bare feet on the wood. The younger man, climbed up onto the bed, under the blankets, and scooted himself over to Dick, pressing himself flush to Dick. His breath was wet against Dick's neck, and he pressed his head against the part of Dick's skull sloping in.

His hands were at Dick's ribs, fingers fitting themselves neatly inbetween each bone, and he rubbed at the skin there.

It was warm under the blankets, Damian’s hands cooler, and Dick considered saying something, sure that Damian knew he was awake, but he never found something he wanted to say over the silence and the feel of Damian's callused fingers on his ribs. He eventually just fell back to sleep.

 

 

 

Dick woke with the sunlight glaring in his face, and he groaned at the blinding light as he pushed the covers off him. Damian wasn't behind him anymore, and Dick glanced around to find a note on the bedside table.

'I made breakfast. It will be in the toaster oven downstairs'

\- Damian

Dick smiled faintly at that and scratched at his chest before sliding his legs to the ground. The hairs of his legs stood up immediately. He shivered, rubbing his thighs. That was what he hated about the mansion the most. The vastness. There were benefits to it, but it wasn’t - it wasn’t cozy.

It was always cold. Even during the winter, they only bothered to heat specific rooms, so when moving between rooms, they had to grit their teeth and watch their breaths puff out. It was especially bad because both Bruce and Damian liked to pretend they didn't feel the cold. They’d get focused on something and completely ignore the fact that they were freezing their extremities off, and it was only when Dick came in that they would start complaining about the temperature like he was their butler. Spoiled, the both of them.

He tugged on a new T-shirt that Bruce had bought him, and then an old Gotham U sweater, jumping around and rubbing his arms to warm himself up to prepare for the hallway. The moment he opened the door, he was greeted with the chill of a mansion that was built with paper and cardboard insulation. He sighed, closing the door sharply before he padded down the hallway, shivering slightly.  

Bruce was lucky Dick loved the mansion. After the circus had been burned down, this was the closest he had left to a childhood home. For all it’s stuffy, ornate decor that dripped with unreasonable wealth, he had liked how there was so much to it. Details upon details in lovingly carved wardrobe and cabinets and woven rugs and tapestries. The richness in the oil paintings and the ornate furniture, time capsules of days past. Bruce had stories to fill the large halls of the mansion, and Alfred and Kate only added theirs onto it. Then Jason and Barbara and one by one the mansion really hadn’t been empty at all.

When he reached the kitchen, it was empty, the table and stove pristine. There were only a few utensils and plates on the drying rack that showed anyone had been through there. The three of them ate out or relied on premade food and drinkable meals more often than not for there to be any clutter in the kitchen.

Dick peered into the glass of the toaster oven to find a sesame bagel with bacon, avocado, cheese, and egg sitting on a plate.

His stomach rumbled, already salivating on reflex, and Dick didn't hesitate to take it out immediately to eat, taking the sandwich off the plate to chew on while he scrolled through his phone. Bagel was a bit stiff now, but he supposed that was what he got for sleeping in this much.

No Arkham Asylum break-outs or prison breaks today, huh.

Not that the guards or nurses ever caught on before they did.

Kitten saved from a tree. Poison Ivy broke into a greenhouse. The Gotham high school basketball team had won in regionals.

He chewed on the sandwich, trying not to let all the contents just fall out, but he was getting close. He ended up having to lick the clinging avocado off his forearm while watching a viral video of a three year old mispronouncing words. Which was when Damian walked into the kitchen and immediately frowned, grabbing the abandoned dinner plate to wave under Dick's sandwich. Dick took the plate and continued chewing.

"Father wants you to check the security cameras over."

"Will do," Dick said between bites.

"I finished it already, however, and found that there was some damage to the corner of the building that was there the previous hours before the criminals escaped. It's possible there may be some materials we would be able to track them by lingering on there."

"Nice-"

"I went to the scene and retrieved what I could be a sample from their weapons. I'm analyzing them now."

"Right," Dick snorted, shaking his head. When he said nothing else, Damian frowned.

"Are you determined to be incompetent?" Damian asked flatly, eyeing the crumbs now surrounding and on Dick despite the plate.

"It's no biggie." Dick shrugged. He flashed a wry smile. "I’m happy when you outshine me, Damian.  Plus less work for me."

There was a flash in Damian’s dark eyes, his pale lips parted. And then. Damian. Leaning in, sliding his thigh between Dick's and pressing in.

Dick took in Damian's blue eyes, a warmer color than Bruce's, that never left Dick’s. He had the urge to cradle Damian in his hands, to be careful, careful, so he wouldn’t scare him away.

“We’ve been spoiling you lately, haven’t we?” Damian’s voice was low and smooth, that hint of an accent that washed over Dick.

“You enjoy it. Being the center of our attentions.” He brushed his lips against Dick’s jaw, and Dick couldn’t help the slight shiver and the desire to sink into Damian’s warmth against the cold marble of the counter. It didn’t matter what words Damian was saying; there was a comfort to the steady cadence of his voice, that constant haughtiness and demanding quality that never failed to amuse Dick.

“We could keep you as a pet, Grayson, if you'd like,” Damian placed a hand on Dick’s chest. "We could purchase silk sheets just for you, allow you to linger in bed, never having to move a single muscle except to accept our pleasure. Do you think that we could be enough exercise for you to maintain your current body mass now? It would have to be. We would provide you everything. Only us. You would eat solely from our fingers, be washed solely by our hands, spoil you until you would only accept us waiting on you hand and foot. You would be utterly devastating.” His voice was soft, hushed in its quality.

Dick decided he would decipher it later, the neediness in Damian’s voice as he simply, pulled Damian’s arm up, rubbing the protruding bone of his wrist. He kissed it, kissed the sharp, awkward bone and then pulled Damian in with an arm around his waist.

"Damian, I'm pretty sure-"

“You don't think Father covets your need? You don't think a shudder of pleasure goes up his spine at the thought of you dependent and pliant with him? Even when you know how much father craves control? He would love to hold you contained here. Never to have contact with a single thing he doesn't explicitly allow with you. Your pleasure and pain at his command."

Dick swallowed, the line of Damian’s heat pressed up against him, lithe muscle and rough jeans and a shirt.

"Damia-"

The alarm went off, and Damian and Dick’s eyes locked before Damian was up off of Dick in a smooth movement, moving towards the study and the grandfather clock entrance. Dick was at his side, swallowing the last bits of the sandwich as they raced to the Cave. He could see Damian in his peripheral, the strong lines of his profile and couldn’t help think he was lucky to have a partner like him.

 

 

 

"Make sure you separate them! We can't risk having all three of them in the same place,” the man said over the walkie-talkie even as his eyes flickered over the scene, searching for a hint of movement.

Nightwing ran forward, flanked by Robin and Batman. They matched his speed or he was matching theirs as the three of them threaded around each other, and Dick thought it was like he had three bodies, the way they moved in tandem with one another, rising as the other fell, moving forward as the other fell back.

They were fractals in a kaleidoscope, repeating and reflecting the pattern of Gotham, and it was like a dream. He only rose when he fell into the arms of Gotham, the two Waynes just in his peripheral, and he was learning to make this city his home, letting it into his blood. He could learn to like it, learn to love it.

Dick ducked the haphazardly thrown knife. He let Damian deal with it as he swept the goon’s leg and sent him crashing to the ground. He flipped forward to grab the wrist of a man holding a gun out with them and twisted his wrist while simultaneously shoving his knee into the man’s stomach. There was a lot of heft to the man’s stomach, but the man let out a choked grunt of pain that satisfied Dick even as he pulled him and the man out of the way, just as a bullet flew past their ears. He shoved the man’s head into the ground, fingers digging into the divots of the man’s skull.

Bruce used the poor guy as a foothold to rise up into the sky, batarangs in hand. Dick whistled as he watched the gang members get pinned to the walls by their clothes. Probably sprains all around from the way they were slammed back against the wall by their clothes and the batarangs.

Damian came up behind him, his breath hot, brushing against the back of Dick’s neck. He slid to the side of Dick, drawing out his katana. He swung it over the snout of one of the member’s gun, the metal clanging sharply and like that, Dick tilted back from a left hook and the three of them were in motion again.

They were a whirlwind of motion and when Dick came to, it was to men fallen around them and only them left standing, breaths heavy.

He stared down at the faint specks of blood over the fallen men before he turned to Batman and Robin, who were both looking at him now. There was a splatter on Robin’s cheek and a few drops on the milky lenses of the cowl, but for the most part, beyond some dirt, they were untouched.

Bruce turned away first to go towards one of the fallen bodies, while Robin glanced over the scene.

“Tt. Some of them escaped another way.”

Dick picked his way through the bodies, giving them quick inspections as he said, “It’ll be faster to wait them out instead of hunting them down now. Wait until they regroup and we can take them out at once.”

The answer seemed to just barely placate Damian who had never liked loose ends.

Batman straightened his stance from a crouch where he’d been inspecting one of the goons and said, "Let's get them cleared up and to the Commissioner."

 

 

 

Dick's wrists tugged against the handcuffs, jangling against the frame as Damian wrapped a hand around his length, squeezing. Dick panted, letting his eyes fall shut for a short moment before there was a sharp pain on his cheek. He opened his eyes again to find Damian staring down at him. "Eyes open, Grayson. You shouldn't be so negligent."

Dick shuddered and then swallowed as Damian released his hold on Dick's cock and cupped his face with both hands instead, one of them wet with lube. He leaned in to press an open mouthed kiss to Dick's lips, sloppy and wet and burning hot.

When Damian pulled back, Dick felt his cock jump at the sight of Damian's dilated pupils and the half-lidded look he gave Dick. His breath was warm on Dick's cheeks, and Dick could already taste the salt of Damian's skin, feel the flesh and skin under his tongue and teeth.

"You'll be good for me, won't you, Grayson?" Damian murmured before he returned his lube covered hand back to twist it behind himself.

Dick whined at the sight of Damian rolling his hips back onto his hand, and by the next sound Damian made, Bruce had probably added another finger to that. The older man pressed a kiss to Damian's tan shoulder and the protruding bone there.

"Are you ready, Damian?" Bruce murmured, voice a low rumble.

Damian nodded, pressing once, twice into his kiss with Dick and then pulling back to lick his wet lips before he held himself steady with a hand on Dick's shoulder.

Behind Damian, Bruce lined them up, hand glistening with lube. Dick hung his head against Damian's shoulder, unable to take his eyes off of where all of them met as Bruce made his hand into a tight fist around the two of them.

Damian had insisted that it was altogether at once. Had insisted Dick be handcuffed and that he let Bruce take control.

Bruce put one steadying hand on Damian’s hip as Damian slowly lower himself over them, teeth gritted and he let them both in.

Dick shivered, his leg jerking at the press of Bruce’s pulsing heat against his and the nearly painful grip Bruce had around them, of the way Damian spread open for them too easily and too wet until he was engulfing them, each further inch painfully won.

Damian let out a ragged gasp, swollen lips parted, as his head hung but he refused to make eye contact.

“Damian,” Dick grit out, wrists tugging uselessly at the handcuffs.

“I’m fine, Grayson,” Damian said, irritation clear in his tone. He swallowed and spasmed around them, but didn’t go any further down. Dick glanced over Damian’s shoulder to see Bruce, the man’s eyes dark and focused lower to where all three of them were connected. He could barely see the thin blue ring around Bruce’s eyes, and Dick reflexively jerked forward, but was held back by the restraints. That caught Bruce’s eye, and the older man’s lips twitched.

Dick frowned before his expression morphed into a gasp as Damian slid down the rest of the way with a shocked gasped. He took a moment to regulate his breathing again, barely a second, before he said, “Move.”

“Damia-’

“Move, Father,” Damian said, shooting Dick an annoyed glance.

Bruce’s hand on Damian’s hip, rubbed the skin there, sliding to his thigh to press into the muscle. He leaned forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Damian’s neck that Damian arched into, prettily, eyes still that hint of unfocused.

“Alright,” Bruce rumbled before he pulled his hips back and then slammed in without mercy. Damian immediately fell forward onto Dick, the tip of his hard cock trailing over Dick’s stomach, leaving a translucent line of precum.

“Fuck,” Damian grit out into Dick’s neck. His breath was hot and damp over Dick’s skin as Bruce moved rhythmically behind them, the wet slap of skin against skin, and Dick shuddered at the rub of Bruce against him and the way Damian tightened each time in preparation for being spread open again. He couldn’t help the buck of his own hips, one that made Damian whine and then his cheeks flush for that.

He wanted to come that instant, but it was Bruce controlling the pace, and Dick reluctantly turned his focus. He caught a glimpse of Damian’s expression, scrunched up, his nose wrinkled adorably.

Dick lets out a soft chuffle as he nosed Damian’s cheek and nudged him into a kiss, muffling both their moans. He jerked his hips back and forth slowly as well as he could, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine, but it was nothing compared to the way Bruce was pressing them together, his powerful thighs propelling him into Damian.

They pulled apart, a string of saliva connecting their lips when Bruce paused, breathing just the slightest bit of ragged.

He moved his hand up to the stray locks in his face and shoved them back in one languid movement that had Dick swallowing audibly. Bruce took that hand and slid it over Damian’s shoulder to palm Damian’s neck. He wrapped his finger around Damian’s neck and pressed Damian back against him, forcing him to arch his back sharply, making the younger man let out a grunt before he was resting his head on Bruce’ shoulder.

Bruce’s eyes stayed on Dick’s for the longest moment as Damian parted his lips obediently, Bruce licking into them.

Dick heard a sharp whine and only the opening of Damian’s eyes that flickered toward him, he realized he’d made the sound. Damian’s lips curved up, and he looked away from Dick. Both he and Bruce only watched each other at the slick sounds of their tongues.

Dick jerked his hips up into Damian, forcing a sharp moan out of Damian, but they still ignored him, Bruce slowly starting up his thrusts again.

Damian came like that, noises sharper than before with the changed position, spilling all over Dick’s chest, but Bruce held him there, fucking in and out of him as Damian’s cock softened, and he shuddered.

He finally let Damian go, faint bruises on the sides of Damian's neck, and Damian snapped forward like a bow string to grasp onto Dick, fingers digging into his shoulders as he was shoved up and down with every thrust, Damian letting out strained grunts.

Bruce finally came, silent and Dick could feel the liquid heat spilling around him in Damian, coating his insides and Dick’s cock, and then Bruce pulled out in a steady, sharp move, come spilling out with him. He panted, wiping his mouth before he said, “Dick hasn’t come yet.”

Damian let out an acknowledging grunt before he pressed his hands onto Dick’s chest and brought his head up to meet Dick’s eyes. Dick felt like he was vibrating out of his skin in impatience at the sharp arousal demanding his attention, and it was only Damian’s eyes on his that brought him back.

He tightened around Dick, making Dick jerk the slightest before Bruce leaned forward and grasped Dick’s ankles, pressing them hard into the bed.

Dick whined, “Bruce. Damian.”

Damian and Bruce had faint matching smiles before Damian, a hint of pain on his face, pulled himself up, the wet sound obscene, and then slammed back down onto Dick repeatedly, the intentional suction too tight and for all that Damian was too loose and slippery inside every time he relaxed.

Dick tried to hold onto his control, letting out a stream of endless groans, until he closed his eyes, mouth parted, and Damian stopped. Before Dick could realize what was going on, Damian had his hand around Dick’s throat squeezing. “Open your eyes, Grayson.”

Dick choked for breath, eyes watering at the grip of Damian’s hand around him.

“Better,” Damian said coolly before he continued, not relaxing his grip, and then Dick came with a soundless breath, blacking out for a moment before coming to his cooling skin and the itch of come on his stomach and chest.

 

 

 

Dick opened his eyes blearily to shift, finding himself still handcuffed to the headboard. He found Damian sitting between Bruce’s sprawled out legs, leaning against the man, almost relaxed as they talked in murmured voices.

"...wouldn't be a good idea, Damian."

"Father-"

Both of their heads snapped in unison towards Dick when he shifted and the bed creaked.

It was a moment before they moved, Damian coming towards Dick first in a languid predatory movement as he moved over the bed to hover over Dick.

He leaned down for a kiss and moved to deepen it. He pulled back to nuzzle at him.

Dick groaned, "Not again, Damian. I really can't," even as his wrists jerked against his cuffs in an effort to ran his fingers through Damian’s sweaty hair.

"Old man," Damian snorted before he pulled back to sit on his haunches. It was too easy to see Damian's swollen hole from Dick's angle, and he felt a jolt through him. He pried his eyes away from that place where all three had been connected and up to Damian's eyes which were looking smug.

“We should prepare for patrol, Grayson," Damian said as he uncuffed Dick and rubbed the reddened skin before returning Dick's hands to him.

Dick rubbed at the grit in his eyes. "Uh. Uhm. Yeah." He moved to sit up, crosslegged, letting the blanket falls to his lap. "You gonna be okay going on patrol tonight, Dami?"

“..."

"Right I shouldn't have even asked.”

“Tt.”

Dick stretched and then, getting up on his knees, pressed a kiss to Damian's temple before shifting off the bed to round the mattress to their wardrobe. When he passed Bruce, he asked, "How about you? You gonna be okay on patrol?"

Bruce shot him a frown.

"You were breathing pretty hard there tonight. Lungs giving out on you?" Dick covered a yawn with his hand as Bruce's hand shot out to grab his by his waist, his grip immovable.

His fingers dug into Dick's ribs. “Ow- hey, B-"

"Damian isn't the only one who would be ready for a second round."

Dick paused and then rolled his eyes, freeing himself from Bruce's grip. "Okay, okay. You guys both basically have Viagra streaming through your veins. Congrats. I don't."

Bruce snorted, shaking his head, letting Dick go, but he followed after him as Dick pulled a pair of underwear from the drawers and moved to the bathroom. Bruce stopped to gather his own clothes while Damian lounged on the pillows on his phone.

Bruce rounded behind Dick as Dick splashed his face with water.

"You're alright?" Bruce asked, voice gravelly.

Dick snorted, immediately regretting the decision when some water went up his nose. He grabbed a tissue, blowing into it before he glanced over at Bruce who hadn't moved at all since he'd asked the question.

"I'm fine, Bruce."

"You blacked out."

"It happens when you have really good sex."

"Damian also choked you."

"You choked Damian," Dick said pointedly.

Bruce only frowned at that before Dick trashed his tissue and moved over towards the shower, turning the hot water on. As Dick fiddled with it, testing the water for pressure and temperature, he said, "It’s not like we couldn’t leave if we wanted to. I did. Damian did too. For three years even. We just chose to come back."

Satisfied with it, Dick swings the shower door open and steps under the spray, brushing his hair back to massage his fingers into his scalp.

There was the sound of Bruce stepping into the shower and then the heat of his body up against Dick's as he herded him.

Bruce bracketed Dick, pressing him against the cool tile. He looked the way Dick thought would be his greatest temptation. The form some trickster would take in a fairy tale to tempt him away from everything good and moral. The broad shoulders and thick muscle and his slightly parted reddened lips. His hair wet and against his neck. His piercing blue eyes. The way the water trickled down his skin, drawing Dick’s eyes lower to all the bared skin. The vulnerability. Of having gotten Batman and Bruce Wayne out from under all those layers of his suit.

Of him offering his heart and his home and of the safety he always emanated to Dick.

"I meant what I said," Dick murmured.

"I’m aware," was all Bruce said, a warm breath against Dick's lips.

Bruce squeezed Dick's hip and then slowly pulled Dick's thigh up.

And Dick could feel Bruce's hard length against his hip, could feel himself starting to stir with interest too even if it still wasn't enough. But there was the warmth of Bruce against him and the cool tile pressed to his back. It was comfortable in a strange way.

When Bruce slid in, Dick banged his head back against the tile, and that made Bruce chuckle as Dick regulated his breathing, trying to adjust to Bruce's girth.

"Give me a- give me a sec," Dick said. He shifts his hips, feeling a spike of pain, but held back a hiss. He wrapped his arms around Bruce's neck and let the man pull him up. Dick made a small sound, practically curled around the man, and then said, his breath a puff of humid air in the steam, "Fuck. I love having you in me.”

It was all the encouragement Bruce needed before he pulled both of Dick's legs up and palmed his cheeks with both hands, pulling them apart. He slid in two more fingers without another word, and Dick's eyes nearly rolled back at the intrusion that was too much. He could feel his thighs trembling as Bruce thrusted in and out of Dick, pressing him into the wall, as his fingers stretched his rim. Dick could only imagine how that must look. Himself, open and gaping, and not even Bruce's cock enough for him.

He shuddered and squeezed around Bruce, knowing he wanted more. He wanted all that Bruce and Damian could possibly ever give, the entirety of that thing that he saw in them that was hungry and unending, and he wanted to be consumed by it so he might finally waive some of the exhaustion in him.

Bruce came too soon, and Dick let out a soft breath as Bruce pressed kisses along his jawline, the water still pounding down his back. As he drew out, letting Dick down, Dick shivered, feeling Bruce dripping out of him.

"Let me clean you up," Bruce murmured, brushing the wet strands of Dick's hair back.  He pulled Dick under the warm spray, stepping out from under it and knelt down until he was level with Dick's soft cock. His nose nudged Dick's balls as he pressed his face in and guided Dick's hips forward until Dick was practically sitting on Bruce's face.

"Fuck, Bruce," Dick gasped, arching back and nearly falling back.

Bruce let out a muffled sound, buried in Dick, even as he grabbed Dick's waist, holding him upright.

Dick let out a choked laugh, breaking off into a moan when Bruce didn't stop. He paused to draw his tongue out, circling the rim before he sucked sharply on Dick's perineum. Dick flinched, his legs flailing slightly before Bruce pressed his tongue back in.

There was the embarrassingly wet sounds echoing across the tile, matched by Dick's sharp breaths as he let his eyes fall shut. His fingers held onto Bruce’s hair tightly enough that he might’ve been yanking some out. Bald Bruce. Dick considered the thought. And then moved his hands to Bruce’s shoulders.

"Alright, Mr. Clean," Dick said, his voice rough. “I think that’s good enough.”

Bruce frowned at that, and that only made Dick grin harder.

“Wanna know who else made that face when I made that joke?”

 

 

 

Damian was still on his phone when Dick walked out of the bathroom with Bruce, though he’d switched positions, now on his stomach. Bruce made a beeline for the wardrobe while Dick moved towards Damian, climbing up onto the bed to wrap an arm around Damian’s waist around the sheets. He pressed his cheek against Damian’s shoulder.

"Hey Damian," Dick murmured as he pulls Damian in close and pressed kisses alone the protruding bones of his spine.

“Grayson,” Damian murmured. Then a note of irritation. “You’re wet.”

“That’s what happens when you take a shower.”

Damian scowled.

“Stocks?”

“No. The employees under me had delivered a complaint to Human Resources.”

Dick paused at the words as he rubbed Damian’s back. “Do you know what it’s about?”

Damian turned to Dick and said dryly, “I could name an unending list of complaints they could have in regards to me. I am not a likeable person, and apparently, as Father enjoys reminding me, that generally leads to lawsuits.”

“How come I didn’t hear about this sooner?”

Damian reared his head. “Why would I have told you? I am not a child requiring you to come to my defense, Richard.”

Dick offered a placating smile. “No, but I meant that I could help with that.” He  tucked his chin on Damian’s shoulder. “Plus, I like knowing what’s going on in your life.”

Damian eyed him. “I'm aware that Father has made it known to you that a position at Wayne Co. is always available for you. If you held any interest in it, then you would have taken it. I don’t see a reason to draw you into such complications if it’s not only unnecessary, but tedious for you as well.”

Dick sunk into Damian, letting his full weight fall on him.

“Thoughtful, aren’t you?”

He hummed with his lips pressed against Damian’s hot skin. Damian’s eyes narrowed as he returned to his phone.

“I can of handle it myself.”

“Be sure to have it settled this week then,” Bruce said, rounding the bed to give the both of them a nod as they turned in unison at his voice.

“I will, Father,” Damian said, looking up.

“Have a good day, Bruce,” Dick said before the man made eye contact with them both and then smoothly exited the room, his footsteps fading quickly.

“...you’re still wet. Get off,” Damian said.

Dick shifted off Damian, rolling onto his back. He caught a glance of his stomach and frowned, cataloguing the purpling skin, some older that were yellow around the edges. He traced the outer edges of the mottled skin before turning his attention to the bump of an old stab wound. In comparison, the silvery scars littering his body were pale and blended in.

“Forget any villain, half my bruises are from you guys,” he murmured half to himself, amused by the thought.

“We look good on you,” Damian replied without hesitation.

Dick stayed silent long enough for Damian to turn to glance at him. Dick raised an eyebrow and wasn’t certain what Damian was thinking as he turned his screen off and sighed before scooting over to Dick.

“Distraction,” Damian muttered.

“Dick-straction.”

He hummed, not entirely invested in starting anything - certain he wasn’t physiologically capable of starting anything, but he always liked the way Damian felt under his hands. Liked the solidity, the lean body that Damian was determined to and was succeeding in adding muscle to. There was something about being enveloped in him that made him feel like his insides were fizzing in a lazy manner.

Damian was eerily silent at Dicks’ roaming touch before he grabbed Dick’s wrist and had him cup Damian.

Dick took the hint and pressed down harder, letting Damian grind up against him as he watched with satisfied detachment. Damian’s hips moved eagerly with Dick’s hand, his breath stuttered as he said, “If you’re going to pleasure me, then do it right.”

Dick snorted. Brat. He paused to lick his palm, eyeing Damian as he did so. Then returned his hand quickly to Damian, stroking him to full hardness.

"Let me fuck you," Damian breathed, a whine in his voice.

Dick continued the same movements as he pressed his lips against Damian's bared shoulder. He sucked a dark mark into Damian's skin and thought about the tenseness in his back, thought about how good Damian's hot skin felt against his, smooth and soft, his speckles of moles and caramel skin that was salty from sweat and tasted like the leather from their suits most days.

Damian whined and tensed up, fingers digging into Dick's wrist hard enough to bruise, the other nearly tearing the sheets.

“Stop, _stop_.”

Dick released him, and he shook, coming down from a high that Dick had to wonder at. For all that Damian might've been overwhelmed from before with both Dick and Bruce filling him to the brim, somehow it felt like Damian was more alive here, shaking into Dick's embrace from a simple handjob.

"I want to fuck you," Damian gasped into the quiet, and Dick rubbed Damian's hip in silence. He wondered about Damian telling Dick how he wanted to care for him and indulge him. It sent up a question through his stomach, through his bloodstream, to his heart and lungs and throat.

"Are you going to ignore me?"

Dick could practically see Damian's scowl. Well now he was certainly tempted to.

He acquiesced instead and said, as he pillowed his cheek on Damian’s back. “I wish I could.”

“Why?” Damian sounded completely offended.

Dick tilted his head with a fondness he can’t hide, letting out a soft snort. Dick parted his legs slightly and reached between his legs to press his cheeks apart. "I'm still wet from Bruce, so feel free."

Damian turned, his pupils fully dilated as his lips parted, eyes never leaving Dick. His brow was knitted but he still grasped himself and slid into Dick with no further preamble, his lips releasing a silent moan. He jerked, elegant with every curl of his abdominal muscles, his hips, pulling in and out. He grabbed Dick's waist, nearly painfully and continued thrusting in and out, taking what he wanted, as he kept his eyes on Dick.  

“Say you want this.”

“I want you,” Dick said, the words caught in his throat.

“...Tt. That wasn’t what I asked.”

“I know,” Dick murmured. He dug his fingers into Damian's bicep, riding each stretch and then pull out as Damian worked into him, steady, sharp, and just that hint of cruel demand in it. It was too much every time, to be fucked by Damian right after Bruce, still soft both times. It didn’t feel good exactly, but both Bruce and Damian knew he liked it when he was in the right mood; it made him feel full. He liked getting to see them fall apart and how desperately they wanted him.

Damian pressed a kiss between Dick's collarbone, another to just below his adam's apple, another to his chin.

"You're beloved, Grayson," Damian murmured, reaching around to cup Dick’s soft cock.

Dick grit his teeth at a particularly brutal thrust and Damian’s accompanying hand stroking him. He presses his forehead to Damian’s and breathed out and reached out for a kiss.

“I love you, Damian.”

 

 

 

Dick woke up alone and was mildly grateful for that. When he didn't wake up alone, it usually meant they were waiting for him to wake up so they could begin again.

He rubbed his arms, sitting up and letting the blankets pool to his waist. Bruce and Damian were probably both at their offices. Outside of patrol and business trips, they were always either there or at home with Dick. The three of them were almost always in Gotham.

It was happening more often than not, them ending up wrapped up in a comfortable cocoon within their home city.

Bruce he could understand. Damian, to some extent too.

But he’d grown up moving, flying, and it’d been transition after transition guiding him. The urge to leave had always eventually caught up to him. Dick had thought he’d always stay that way. Or maybe it just hadn’t caught up to him yet.

He scratched his pubes and yawned. He should probably shower again considering he could feel Damian leaking out of him. Damian really liked marking his territory, like some cat in heat. Not that Bruce was much better.

Not that he himself was much better. The first time he’d seen the hickeys he’d left on the two of them under the sunlight leaking in, he’d never felt that kind of possessiveness before.

Dick went under the shower spray, barely waiting for it to warm up. He rinsed himself off cursorily and soaped up his skin, mainly going for the spots of dried come. When he dug his fingers inside of himself, he winced. Bruce and then Damian had really did a number on him. He couldn't imagine how much Damian must be aching now though.

The way Damian had near begged for them to do that, the hunger clear in the planes of his face, something desperate and vulnerable in the way he wanted so much from them, enough that he’d been unable to hide it.

He cleaned himself out and then turned the water off, standing there in the steam surrounding him. It brought a thickness to the air that made him more aware of him breathing in and out. The steam coated his lungs and brought to light every gust of air that passed between his lips.

Damian's words repeated in his mind.

He breathed in and out slowly.

Like a treasured toy. A precious pet.

Maybe Dick was already being spoiled, not that Bruce or Damian likely even saw it like that considering their access to money and their easy dispense of it. Any menial labor was accomplished through servants unless it was for mental training. Ridiculous that this was the lifestyle he was living now. Not just now, but again.

Dick dried off his hair and then threw he towel on the bed.

He stood there, naked, feeling the droplets of water trail down his neck as he let himself fall back onto the bed, shivering. Damian and/or Bruce would complain about that later. They were incredibly particular about the comforts of their life. If they were going to have something, they were going to have it exactly the way they like it. Either exactly or not all.

Dick pulled on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, giving into the chill and nearly jumped out of his skin when he walked out of their room, and Damian was there, adjacent to the door. Damian had his legs sticking out of the railing and swinging free above the first floor.

“There’s a fee for loitering,” Dick said, standing to the side.

Damian gave a jerk of his head, not looking up from his D.S. “I can afford it.”

Dick paused and then continued. "Did you want to talk?”

“Not particularly, but it appears that you do. So talk.”

“Show me that you’re listening first.”

Damian seemed to hesitate before he pressed the pause button on his game and looked up. His eyes were dark in the dimly lit hallway, and Dick wondered about emotions swirling in them, always unspoken. If Talia hadn't raised him, if they'd gotten to him first...

“About what you said in the kitchen. Was that just a spur of the moment thing or did you really mean it?”

Damian narrowed his eyes, turning to fully face Dick.

“Why would I waste my time with riddles, Grayson?”

Dick crouched down. “I just don’t understand it.”

“What don’t you understand?” Damian asked, impatience thinly veiled.

“It just strikes me as odd - that you would you actually still like me if I was that boring and useless.” Dick’s lips curled.

Damian's eyes flickered away as he replies. “It would be different if it were you, Richard.”

“Really.” Dick said unable to keep the amused disbelief out of his tone.

“Yes,” Damian frowned, his face wrinkling.

Dick let out a sigh, “Don’t know what to say to that.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

Dick paused at the statement. He thought Damian might punctuate his words with a kiss, his hands on Dick’s body, but instead, he only waited a few more seconds, and when Dick didn’t add anything else, he turned back to his game.

Dick unfolded himself from his crouch and slid his legs through separate gaps through the railing, matching Damian’s position. He leaned up against the other man, resting his head on his shoulder, and there was no one in the mansion but them and the ghosts of Bruce’s lineage. He ran his hands over the smooth railing, a layer of dust in the corners of the design. Time stood still in the Wayne manor, Dick thought, the tapestries and rugs and paintings and furniture from lifetimes ago. It stood still while the rest of the world rushed past them, dizzying and unforgiving.

After a moment, Dick said, “Apples.”

“What?” Damian muttered, obviously not paying attention to Dick anymore.

“Apples. We should go pick them. Alfred would’ve had our asses by now for letting so many of them go to waste already.”

Damian stared up at Dick for a long moment, and then he nodded.

“Apples.”

Dick smiled and stood up to hold out his hand to Damian’s, the warmth of it steadying him.  

 

 

 

Dick stood beside the gargoyle, letting the wind blow past him, his hair flowing out. It was getting long, getting up to his shoulders, but both Bruce and Damian seemed to like it. They liked washing it too, and Dick wouldn't say no to a head massage and soft hair later. It was convenient to be able to put it up into a loose ponytail too.

He gazed down at the cars flitting through the streets as he listened in on the police scanner.

“Patroling 5th and 9th. Spotted a figure that looks like a wanted suspect for the breaking and entering at the Garcia house.”

“Wait for backup.”

“Copy.”

Dick took a step back and turned on his heel in the direction of that intersection. He took a running start to leap over the gap between the building, loving the jolt in his legs and the grit of the cement as much as the wind as he landed and tucked, rolling before he was up on his feet for the next leap.

When he reached the scene, it looked like the two police officers had everything under control. The man was pressed up against the brick wall, handcuffs slapped on him and then he was shoved into the back of the police car, yelling obscenities.

He crouched there, overlooking the alley way, as he watched the flashing blue and red lights disappear into the traffic.

The night felt languid; it’d been slow. Mr. Freeze had just made a big show last week, and Gotham was still rebuilding after that, including the gangs and petty criminals. He hummed, tapping his fingers on the ledge of the building roof.

Penguin was on vacation in the Bahamas, Ivy and Harley were celebrating their anniversary, and Harley had agreed to stay out of trouble in exchange for building a park as Pamela’s present. Joker was in Arkham. At the moment. Firefly was in the hospital for severe burns. Two-face was probably still building up his nefarious schemes. Bane was in Mexico.

It was quiet.

His mind was steadily getting dirtier with more time that he spent with them. Even now he was thinking about their soft, silken sheets and the pillows that he could sink into with their callused hands all over him. The scent of their sweat and sex mingled together and the earthy scent of it when he pressed his face between their legs, head pillowed on their thighs and breathed in and out. He would see the flowery wallpapers out of the corner of his eyes or the gold baroque frames around the paintings or the inlaid carved frames patterning the walls. He liked the richness of the saturated colors and textures. He’d never left the circus after all, the noise translated into colors and patterns now, the entire mansion his own trapeze set.

Dick stiffened at the shift of gravel behind him before he let his shoulders fall again.

“How was the docks? I heard you and Robin got a kick out of that,” Dick said.

“Not funny, Nightwing,” Bruce growled.

“Don’t tell me one of you actually got hurt.”

“...”

“Then I’m allowed to make fun of you. Landed flat on your ass, huh? If the policewoman wasn't so scared of you, she would've pissed her pants lau-”

“We have work to do.”

“Make me,” Dick replied, moving to squat down to take a seat on the ledge.

Bruce grabbed Dick’s arm and dragged him up liked he weighed nothing. Dick let out a cracked yelp, unable to help himself. He was glad he wasn’t facing Bruce right now. Because that noise he’d made was embarrassing, and he really hadn’t expected Bruce to take up the challenge. Dick and Damian must really be getting to him. Somehow, someway, Dick supposed. The man was only human.

Dick tilted his head up, leaning on Bruce, looking up at the breathless sky, an unsaturated purple with faint stars he could just make out. It was endless and unbroken with the heights they were at. The sky was pale and paled against the feeling of Bruce’s chest against him. The rest of the world seemed so small.

"It’s embarrassing but you still make my heart race so easily.”

There was a pause and then Bruce's hand slowly slid up over Dick's bared neck, and Dick turned around without a thought to face the man in the suit, Bruce’s hand sliding with the movement.

Bruce’s eyes were covered by the white of his mask and like always, Dick mused, he wondered if the uncertainty he saw on him was his own projection or if he was actually reading the man properly. If maybe he finally understood enough to be able to not feel so blindsided by the man’s decisions.

"So wanna have a date night at Denny's?"

Batman frowned.

Nightwing smiled and then he backed away to the edge, lips still curled. "C'mon, lover boy. Have a sense of humor."

He quirked an eyebrow and waited, but when nothing came, he saluted him and let himself fall backwards, let himself tumble and twist through the air, waiting as Gotham rose up to meet him.

And Bruce came leaping after him, his cape fluttering behind him like some otherworldly creature made of darkness.

Bruce wrapped an arm around Dick's waist, and shot out his grappling gun, sending them swinging with a grunt.

“You're getting too old for this," Bruce muttered.

"You mean you're getting too old for this," Dick said, taking in the view of Gotham, framed by a leather cowl and the flickering in and out of a cape.

"Next time I'm dropping you."

Dick only smiled at that and patted Bruce's shoulder. He was always waiting for Bruce to one day do exactly that.

 

 

 

Dick left the gym, towel around his neck, sweat soaking his clothes, going back towards their room.  He'd heard the front door open a while ago. Twice, indicating that both Waynes had come home. His footsteps were quiet in the mansion, habit instilled, and even now, he still had it memorized which floorboards creaked and which didn't. When he reached their room, the door was half open and it was just enough room for Dick to slip in, immediately catching sight of them.

He found Damian and Bruce’s back to him, leaning close to each other, and it would almost seem innocent, like just another father in son if Dick didn’t know better. Their temples were nearly touching as they were talking in muted voices, and a spark of jealousy stabbed through Dick.

It was like that sometimes with them. They were so similar and those similarities seemed to exert their own force on Dick when the two were together. They were rarely so in sync, but when they were, it left him feeling weak, left with only his eyes trailing them. They were good together, and Dick relented with his jealousy that those moments were hardwon and precious to both Damian and Bruce.

It was that reminder that pushed his back on his heel. He'd give them their privacy.

Dick walked back down the hallway, cooling sweat sticky on his skin. He grimaced and then peeled his shirt off, leaving it hanging on his shoulder like his towel. He had about three hours before the garden opening. He'd need to be there at least an hour early to run everything through over again with the Wayne PR crew and setup crew. Get his makeup on, get familiar with the scene. Before that, he'd need maybe an hour to get ready with his clothes and drive over, grabbing something quick to eat.

Damian would probably be able to pick something. The guy was unbelievably picky, but at least he was vocally decisive, Dick supposed, unlike Bruce who was decisive but had a habit of toning it way down low with them when it came to things for enjoyment.

He sat down on the stairs and sighed, fiddling with his phone, staring at the colorful apps before he closed it for the dark screen.

He tapped his fingers on his thigh before transitioning to jiggling his leg. He was bored. That was the problem. Dick shook his head to himself and then opened his screen again to go to his contacts. He scrolled down the page, the sliding bar shooting down fast enough that the names were just blurs. He scrolled it back up before it stopped at the top again.

He clicked on Clark’s name and then the chat bubble.

For a long time, Dick stared at the stark ‘why?’ on the left hand side of the screen, sent almost 1 year ago, Mar 25th 2:31 a.m.

Dick knew Clark would always be there to help if they needed it. He could still single out Bruce’s heartbeat, and he had shown up a few times when Bruce had almost died. But Jon was his son, was Damian’s age, his counterpart, and that comparison must’ve eaten Clark up. Clark must’ve pictured it at least once, Dick mused, in an attempt to understand Bruce; he must’ve pictured himself and Jon together and had been left disgusted and angry.

Dick hadn’t had an explanation to Clark’s text at the time, riddled with doubts that he’d only kept at bay because Damian had rarely left his side at the beginning, too afraid Dick would just off and run some day.

This is just how it is, Dick wanted to say now. It is how it is the way that we put on colorful tights and beat people up, and other people put on colorful tights and beat the people we care about up. It’s the way we are, with the needs we have, with this world we live in.

"Grayson," Damian called, walking down the stairs, quickly.

Dick held back a jolt and closed his screen before he turned to Damian and Bruce standing behind his son at the top of the stairs, hands in his pockets. Bruce nodded and then Dick shifted his eyes back to Damian's expectant expression.

"We're going out for dinner."

Dick blinked in surprise. "I have to go the garden opening in three hours. Unless it's fast food or something...”

“You'll be on time, Grayson.”

Dick quirked his lips. “Where're we going?"

"Out," Damian said, striding past him. He paused a step below Dick, inspecting his shirtless torso before he wrinkled his nose. "Shower first. Be quick. Father and I will call the driver."

Damian was at the base of the steps when his phone vibrated. Damian frowned, drawing it out of his pocket to inspect before he immediately clicked his tongue in displeasure and walked away towards the kitchen.

"Colin, it was a gift. Do you know what a..."

Dick glanced at Bruce who hadn’t moved from his position at the top of his stare, a matte wall of black.

"He might be awhile."

"Yeah," Dick said.

"I have something that might occupy our time while Damian's busy. It was actually his suggestion."

Dick quirked his lips at Bruce's words, raising an eyebrow. "Is it Clue?"

 

 

 

Dick shuddered when Bruce pushed it in fully, sliding in the tips of his two fingers along with it. It was embarrassing the way Bruce was practically supporting all his weight when it was a small toy, but Dick was still curled up over him, legs straddling his lap.

He let out a strained noise as Bruce shifted, tugging his underwear back up and his slacks as well. He buttoned up the canvas cloth and then there was the clink of the belt as he tightened it - the sensation nearing overwhelming - around Dick’s waist. He thought he might implode.

Bruce gingerly lifted him up, hand fitting along Dick’s ribs, and set him back on his feet. Dick was a little shaky, but he knew it wasn't because of the toy that was small enough to be manageable, but the thoughts roaming around his head, the familiar scent of Bruce and his hard body pressed up against Dick. His thick fingers in him.

“Yeah, fine,” Dick said in response to Bruce's comment, wiping his mouth.

“Damian will be pleased,” Bruce said, a hint of a smile curling at the edge of his lips.

“Funny,” Dick said, “how you’re looking pretty smug right now too.”

“Am I?” Bruce said, plain faced. He put a hand at Dick’s lower back and guided him to the door.

“Yeah, you are,” Dick says, to able to say much more. He shifted his hips, Bruce's hand on his lower back constant as he guided Dick down the stairs, the low pulse of arousal ebbing and flowing with each step.

Damian was in front of the double doors and only raised an eyebrow when he looked up from his phone, eyes too attentive on every little jerk Dick made as he climbed down.

Dick closed his eyes, taking in a breath. If that was how they were going to play it.

 

 

 

The gates to the garden, lit up by solar powered fairy lights, stood 20 feet high, and were made from hemp fibers bound with lime.  Dick stared up at the stretching pickets and the name swirled up in the same material over the rails. Deeper in, he could see the almost immediate wall of greenery that cut off this 10,000 square feet from the rest of Gotham. It was really something, and even if Dick had worked alongside the architects, engineers and botanists, he'd loved seeing all of it come together.

Dick turned his head to look out into the growing crowd. Gotham really liked their public events and announcements. He supposed it was because usually those concerned their lives with all the crime going around, but the citizens seemed to like the happy events too. It was the little things, Dick mused, when you lived in a city like Gotham. In the midst of the crowd, he spotted a patch of red hair next to blond, and couldn’t help the curl of his lips. They hadn't separated from their themes tonight either.

He made eye contact with them for a moment, holding Harley's blues before he nodded and her lips curled in acknowledgment. The three of them were probably too obvious about it with the villains sometimes, but hopefully everyone just went on assuming Bruce Wayne was Batman’s sugar daddy. For once it was convenient that Harley rarely cared about the lives of anyone except for the couple people she was fixated on.

When Dick was introduced and he took center stage, he accepted the microphone with a thank you, and looked forward, Bruce and Damian visible from out of the corner of his eyes. They were at the edge of the stage just in case anything happened, so they'd be able to sneak away quickly. Dick shoved down the urge to adjust his stance. He'd really chosen the wrong pants to wear today, and Poison Ivy might just kill Dick Grayson if he had the audacity and perversity to sprout a boner during the opening of her garden.

“I don't have too much to add onto that," Dick smiled his patented smile, and there was a ripple of requisite laughter in the crowd, "but I want to acknowledge all the people here today in Gotham who played a part in this garden and all the plans we have for it. This was started as a favor to a friend of mine, and so in honor of them, this garden is not only a public place meant to add the much needed greenery in our grey city, but it's also a safe haven for all women and children. This garden will be staffed solely by women. In addition, many of the flora here are edible or partially edible and all of the harvested food will be given to Gotham Elementary for their school lunches at no cost. The staff we've already hired have already begun planning with Gotham Elementary, Middle, and High, and with the Gotham Women's Shelter on offering educational field trips and transitional part time work. It's thanks to-" Dick smiled as he listed and introduced the name of each woman who had helped build the garden or who would help run it. After the final wave of applause for the last name, Dick swept out his hand, and the gate began to open.

"On that note, I’m proud to declare the Lillian Gardens open.”

The gates fully opened, highlighted by applause as Dick watched as Pamela pulled Harley down into a sweeping kiss. He licked his lips before turning away with faint embarrassment. He was happy for them and if them being busy with each other meant a little less crime on occasion, well, it wasn’t something Dick would refuse.

Dick squeezed around the plug inside him as he scanned the crowd, shifting his hips. He’d had it in him for nearly four hours now, the smooth plastic rubbing against his walls with each step or shift in his posture, and it was difficult to keep his focus when all he wanted to do was shove his hand down his pants and jerk off. At firsts he thought he’d save that pleasure for Damian or Bruce, but he was getting too - and it was like he couldn't breathe when his eyes landed on her. It was just a glimpse of horn-rimmed glasses and red hair, but it was enough. She rolled away on her wheelchair, waiting for people to move out of the way and when she paused to acknowledge someone, that was when their eyes met.

He could hear her voice in his head.

Could feel the pit of his stomach drop and feel the blood drain from his face.

She held his eyes for longer than he thought she would before she turned her head, figure stiffer than before as she rolled away.

"Grayson. Grayson!"

Dick turned to look at Damian. They were eyelevel, and Damian might outgrow him one day, but for now, it was unnerving that Dick was always locked in by Damian's eyes the second he turned to him.

"We should get going," Dick said. He looked around, realizing that he had somehow gotten off the stage and was off to the side. "I'm really not in the mood to get mobbed by the paparazzi."

Damian nodded. "I already called the driver. He is arriving right over there." He nodded towards the sleek black car and Dick followed his line of sight.

Dick smiled and clapped Damian's shoulder.

Damian frowned.

"What?" Dick asked.

"Perhaps we should have gone bigger..." Damian muttered.

Dick snorted and then shook his head, moving towards the car, the plug barely noticeable now. "Where's Bruce?"

He followed Damian's line of sight again to where Bruce was talking animatedly with another well dressed man in a suit.

"He the CEO from Archer, that company that makes alarm systems?"

"Yes," Damian said.

"Right, well let's get to the car first."

They pushed through the crowd, managing to go unnoticed for the most part, and Dick was literally three meters from the car when Damian’s voice was the loudest Dick’s heard it in a long time - while also being coherent.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarled, slapping a hand - Dick turned to see that it was VIcki Vale’s hand - away. Damian was stopped  more than ten feet away from Dick, the crowd milling between them. He could see Damian's hackles rising as Vicki Vale's red lips moved quickly, her posture on the offensive.

Dick was running before he realized, sliding in smoothly, dodging and ducking people, before he planted his feet in front of Damian to face Vicki Vale.

He said, tone mild as he can muster, even with the glimpse of pale anger on Damian’s face fresh on his mind, “I don’t think that kind of a question really deserves a response, Miss Vale.”

He turned, not even sparing another look to the reporter. His back was to her, himself facing Damian.

Dick put a hand on Damian’s arm. “Let’s go, Damian.”

Dick felt a hand on his shoulder, nails digging in, and ignored it only for Damian’s eyes to be drawn to them, and his eyes flashed before he tried to go around Dick.

“Damian, Damian, hey-”

"Oh, c'mon. The three of you grown men in that big house, rich as hell, and no women-" It wasn't an important thought, but the feel of her against him made Dick think that it'd been a while since he'd been touched by someone else. It was disconcerting, the discrepancy between the warmth of Bruce and Damian’s touch and the absolute disgust roiling in his stomach at hers.

Dick grabbed Damian by the elbow, and when Damian turned to him, eyes flashing, Dick only said, low, firm, "No. We're going home, Damian."

Damian seemed to want to protest, lips parting, but they died there at Dick's expression. It should be enough to signal to Damian that they needed to go; this wasn't a fight they were ever going to win. Damian scowled and then shoved forward, his grip on Dick's wrist too tight. It was only when they entered the car and closed the door that Dick realized how quiet it was now in comparison. He sunk down into himself into the chair and then barely contained a yelp. The plug was still in him.

He shuddered and shifted in his chair, adjusting his pants, well aware that Damian was watching him. He waited until he knew his voice was steady before he spoke.

"You can't act like that Damian. No matter how much they rile you up."

"So harassment suddenly isn't a crime," Damian shot back.

"We're public figures. It's part of the job." Dick shifted to a more comfortable position, seeing how Damian eyes followed the movement hungrily. If that was enough to settle him, Dick thought, pursing his lips, then he was glad they'd chosen today to do this. Hell, he'd go out with a plug up his ass every time if it meant Damian listened to him.

Damian's eyes moved up to his face as he shot him a look and then glanced away, scowling. "Tt."

"If you can't keep a lid on your temper then you don't have to come out with us next time."

Damian didn't acknowledge him.

"She doesn't matter," Dick said, watching him silently fume. "Damian."

"..."

They sat in silence, Dick looking out the window at Bruce's figure, flanked by several other people. It was clear from his body language that he was trying his best to extricate himself politely, and he saw him glance back at the car more than a few times. It wasn't until ten minutes later that the door opened, and Bruce ducked inside, still finishing a greeting before he slammed the door shut, face immediately falling into a frown. He glanced at the two of them, and the car started rolling forward just as Bruce settled down beside Damian.  

"She’ll keep her distance next time," was all Bruce said.

 

 

 

The moment they stepped out of the car and the driver left, Dick was suddenly a lot more aware of the fact that the plug was still in him.

It wasn't that he realized it himself, but instead the way the atmosphere in the room changed as the Waynes turned on him.

The barely restrained frustation cum anger flew out of him at the thought of what would happen next. Dick’s knees hit the floor painfully the second the doors closed behind him, and he twisted his fists into the threads of the rug as he panted, feeling a wetness spread in his pants. He didn't know what levels the vibration went up, but he was guessing this was near it's max. At least they hadn't used in while he was on stage. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, in front of him were the polished shoes of both Waynes, the two of them standing immutable above him.

His insides ached, over sensitized and needy as though all the time he'd been able to ignore the toy had compounded into the past few minutes. He let out a sharp noise.

And it was only Damian and Bruce’s hands on him that enabled to even consider rising as they lifted him up in their steady hold and whisked him away.

 

 

 

Dick choked on Bruce, breathing in his musky scent, the coarse hairs brushing against his lip, his nose pressed to his stomach. His throat convulsed around the slick length and his jaw was already starting ache as saliva trailed down his chin, Dick focusing on breathing through his nose, breathing Bruce in.

Damian ran his fingers, tracing circles over where they’d bruised Dick earlier as he grinded into Dick as if he could go any deeper than he already had. He pulled out an inch and then thrust back in, grinding his hips into Dick's ass. He was a line of heat in Dick.

“You were so good, Grayson,” Damian whispered into Dick’s ear. “Do you see how envious they were of the mayor who introduced you? To get to touch you, to get to breathe you in and be in your presence.”

Bruce’s fingers tilted Dick’s head up just the slightest, unable to move anymore with Bruce’s cock down his throat. Bruce’s eyes flickered over Dick’s face, taking in the wet corners of his eyes, the reddened lips. Dick managed to bring himself back into focus enough to meet Bruce’s eyes.

Bruce let his hand fall away, and Dick’s head tilted back down, wondering what Bruce saw in him, what kept him here with them. Bruce pulled back and then thrust back wetly into Dick's throat. He could feel the slid of precum down his throat, and he was so hard he was dizzy. Neither of them had bothered to touch him, instead taking their pleasure from him.

Dick choked around Bruce's cock, doing his best to suckle on the length, running his tongue down the protruding vein. That was when Bruce pulled out in time with Damian, and Dick was left gasping, feeling wet and cold and empty, aching. He shuddered when Bruce sunk his fingers into Dick's matted hair and dragged his head up.

"Open sesame," Bruce murmured, and even if Dick parted his lips, letting Bruce smear precum over his lips and cheek, he had half a mind to chew the man out for bad jokes. Bruce was heavy and salty on his tongue, taking his time to rub his cock head on Dick's tongue until Dick was drooling, missing the feeling of that weight and fullness occupying his mouth. He closed his eyes and shuddered as Damian rubbed his fingers inside him.

"You shouldn't let her touch you next time," Damian said. "As if she could ever understand a single thing about us. As if she could ever comprehend the value you hold. How precious you are..."

His fingers twisted inside and Dick jolted, gagging around Bruce who was leisurely thrusting in and out of Dick's mouth. The older man didn't pause or even acknowledge Dick's stutter as he stared out, eyes half lidded, into the distance.

Damian slid his pinky in along with the rest of his fingers. "You're so loose, Grayson."

"He's always been very accommodating," Bruce rumbled.

And now Bruce decided to find a sense of humor.

"He is," Damian nearly purred and Dick could feel his thumb pressing against his hole and he jerked forward just as Damian pressed it in.

His fingers were pressed together just as he got past the first knuckle of his thumb, sinking in slowly, centimeter by centimeter, that slick and impossible stretch. Dick let out a litany of groans against Bruce's cock, shuddering. He'd done this to Bruce before ironically, but he had spent time talking to him about it beforehand. And Damian's hands were bigger than his. Not by much, but enough for Dick's eyes to nearly roll back when then second knuckle of Damian's thumb slid in, unrelenting even when his entire hand was in.

Dick shifted his hips, uncertain of what he wanted. His thighs were trembling by now, and it was only the certainty that he would be utterly wrecked if his legs collapsed on him, slamming him down on Damian's hand, that kept him stiff in his position.

Damian, Dick tried to say around Bruce who hadn't stilled for a second. The man's eyes were now focused over Dick's head where Damian was in him.

He could feel the tight coil of heat pooling at his belly and the need to come, but he wanted more. He wanted them to touch him more, deeper, until his organs were molded by the way they pulled him apart.

There was the sudden relief of Damian's hand sliding entirely in as Dick clenched around his slimmer wrist, knowing he was only holding him there even as his body insisted he was keeping him out.

Damian jerked in a sudden inch, and Dick cried out.

"Just a little more," Damian murmured, and Dick wasn't certain he could take anymore.

He stroked Dick's insides, murmuring things about how soft, how good and obedient he was, like he was coaxing Titus into taking his medicine.

"Can you come just like this, Grayson?" Damian asked. It barely registered for Dick when he could feel every single twitch of Damian's fingers inside him. "You'll have to as you haven't been good enough to receive anything more. Father's doing all the work up there."

Dick shuddered, feeling his cock drool onto the sheets and at Damian's soft voice, at Bruce' hand in his hair and his cock in his mouth, Damian filling him from the other end, he came.

He let Bruce release down his throat and then dropped his head just as Damian pulled his hand out slowly. His muscles felt lax even, and he barely managed to hold his hips up. He felt Damian slide himself into Dick, hot and pulsing, and Dick closed his eyes, enjoying Damian's pants growing quickly more desperately before he came inside Dick.

The last thing he heard was Damian say, "Abracadabra," dryly, and Dick mumbled, probably unintelligibly, "First of all, asshole..." before he drifted off, cheek pillowed on Bruce's thigh, the scent, taste, and ache of them thrumming in him.

 

 

 

It was early dawn when Dick woke up.

When he turned on his side, it was to find Bruce eating Damian out, Damian’s breath uneven as he sobbed into the pillow, his cries muffled. Their skin was pale under the thin light of the sun, the shadows of their bodies sharp and flat, melding their figures together.

Dick let his eyes fall close for a just a moment, the sounds of the sheets rustling just the slightest and Damian’s sharp, desperate breaths lulling him. He let himself listen in, enjoying the cooling air on his cheeks and the mild warm of the blankets. When he noticed he was close to falling back asleep, Dick peeled open his eyes the slightest to reach out to curl his hand into Damian’s. His fingers prodded at where Damian’s fingers were digging into his palm for entrance, and Damian granted it.

He rubbed methodically at Damian’s calluses, feeling the urge to pull Damian into his arms, but didn’t, knowing that would disrupt the two of them. He placated himself with Damian’s hand and let the rustle of sheets and uneven breathing - the memories of unhurting, good, steadying touches sliding over him - fill the settled air of the room.

  
  


 

He found Damian sitting on the toilet cover in a rumpled shirt and pajama pants. It looked surprisingly domestic, with the shadow of a beard on his jaw and his hair mussed. He took up the entire seat, legs spread comfortably as he frowned. He looked up when Dick came in.

"It is important that I tell you something," Damian said unblinking.

"Yeah?" Dick said, careful to hide any trepidation. He picked up his toothbrush and dolloped the toothpaste onto the brush.

"I-," Damian stopped and Dick stopped in turn, setting his toothbrush down. He turned to look at Damian, not bothering to hide his concern.

“Tell me,” Dick said.

Damian pressed his lips together, and Dick knew their taste, the feel of them under his own. He constantly wanted to kiss Damian, he mused, always wanted to feel that hot breath and that slick tongue under him. Feel those soft lips, give under his and bruise and swell, feel Damian push back just as desperate in every corresponding motion.

Damian almost looked amused, if not hollow, when he said.

“The first person I had ever slept with was father. A great deal of it was imagining what it would be like if it was him fucking you and not me. How you would moan or writhe with him inside you. Somehow for both of us, it was less perverse to sleep with each other than to touch you.”

“What?” Dick broke out into light strangled laugh. “You're joking right Damia-”

“I'm not. We both shared a deeper familial bond, if you wanted to label it as such, with you than with each other.”

“Damian, Bruce would do anything for you, just like you would for him.”

“We’re both aware of that,” Damian said dryly, “but,” and his expression softened there, “you were the one there when we were both just beginning to become the people we are. You are, as in those comics Drake is disgustingly fond of, a part of our origin story.”

“Damian...” Dick shifted, running his fingers over the bristles of his toothbrush. “You know that what we have isn't normal, right?”

“This is my normal,” Damian said.

“Yeah, but it isn't normal. It-”

“I have never been normal. I don’t believe I can be. This is my world, and you and Father are the people I love.”

Dick blinked and took in the tense line of Damian's body. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Dick said again, and this time, he smiled a little, just enough to get Damian’s shoulders to fall and for him to breathe.

 

 

 

Dick found them in bed together the next morning. He'd just come back from surveying the third floor for whether any of the flooring needed a replacement and he'd expected the two of them to be exactly where he left them. Damian hunched over his laptop on the bed, earbuds jammed into his head, and Bruce in his office on the first floor.

Instead, he found, Damian gasping, "Father-"

“Father, Father,” Damian gasped, “Father,” as he curled up over Bruce’s chest, jerking shakily until he finally finished.

Dick leaned against the doorway, as he took in the scene. He leaned his own laptop against his hip, taking in the sight of Damian flushed and shuddering on top of Bruce' broad chest. The younger man slumped, breathing audible even from where Dick was standing. The blankets were kicked to the corner of the bed, hanging off the mattress, and Dick noticed, eyeing the sheets, that they would need to do some laundry soon.

Bruce was running a careful hand through Damian's locks. His eyes didn't stray from Damian's figure, but he said, "Dick."

"Just enjoying the view," Dick murmured. He then flashed Bruce a smile.

"Come here," Damian said. He had to repeat it again before Dick caught the slurred words, and once he did, Dick obediently padded over to the bed and placed his laptop onto the nightstand before pressing a kiss to Damian's sweaty neck.

"You know I'd give you anything, right?" Dick murmured into Damian's ear. He pressed a kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his shoulder. "Spoil you and let you get all high and mighty on me."

"I am already taller than you. Mightier too."

"Agree to disagree on both. For one, any centimeters you might have on me is because you spike your hair." Dick pulled back and grinned, eyes sliding to where Bruce's thick cock stretched Damian's entrance. Dick smacked Damian's ass lightly before turning back to both of their faces. "I ordered some brunch and it just came in. Come down whenever you guys are finished."

Damian shifted on cheek on Bruce's chest. His eyes narrowed. "You don't intend to join us?"

"I'm intending on you two joining me," Dick said, teasing. His eyes flickered back down to Damian's stretched hole. "And you might want to be a good boy and help your Daddy out before he grounds you."

Dick ducked the pillow chucked at him, and left the room whistling.

 

 

 

He had all the plates and utensils set out already, mugs filled with coffee, and was dishing out the french toast with fruit puree and scrambled eggs with sausage when they came down.

Bruce sat down, and Damian immediately followed to lower himself onto Bruce’s lap.

Dick finished dishing everything out before pulling out his own seat. He quirked an eyebrow at Damian, and Damian glanced up at him in return. Bruce was staring down at the table setting.

"Yes, I know the utensils are mismatched," Dick said without looking away from Damian.

"And yet," Bruce said.

Dick sighed.

Damian started eating, and Dick took the opportunity to ignore Bruce in favor of starting on the sweet bread.

After a while, Bruce took the utensils anyway and started eating, already having mastered the art of working around Damian to get to his food.

"Any plans for the weekend?" Dick asked. "I heard you decided to invest in a new app."

Bruce's eyes flickered up. "Where did you hear that from?"

"I get a lot of emails asking me about my opinions on what the newest enterprise of Wayne Co. is." Dick's lips quirked on their own. "So villain spotting?"

Bruce nodded. "Tamara was the one who suggested it. The users can anonymously post any information in regards to villains on there."

"Your night and day jobs are colliding."

Bruce paused in a bite of his food. "I only have one job, Dick. You know that."

Dick didn't pause chewing. "You've always been capable of doing two things at once."

Bruce shot him a look at the same time Damian spared Dick a glance. They were in unison and Dick couldn't help himself when he said, "What should I call you guys? The ventriloquist and the dummy? Madonna and child?"

Damian shot him a cold look. "You aren't amusing, Richard."

"Way to encourage a guy. And you, Bruce? Any positive commentary?"

Bruce peered up from his coffee, looking extremely tired. He sighed and then said, "Come here."

Dick blinked.

"Come here," Bruce said, and Dick looked down at Bruce's lap for a moment before he stood up from his chair, putting his utensils on his plate so he could carry both his plate and mug, before walking around over to Bruce. He promptly climbed into Bruce's other free leg, thinking about how terrible this was for Bruce's blood circulation, and placed his plate on the other side of Bruce's.

Damian yawned, chewed up food visible in his mouth. He rubbed at his eyes, and Dick caught a laugh at the back of his throat. Two grown men in Bruce's lap. 

Dick turned to his plate, cut off a piece of the crispy edge that he knew was Bruce's favorite and fed it to the older man. 

 

 

 

Dick came down the stairs, eyes on Bruce's figure. He stood there, a still, vertical figure, among all the horizontal lines. He stuck out like a sore thumb. And all things said, Dick guessed he was suitably sore both due to him and Damian and due to Gotham's villains. Plus he was emotionally sore - but that was a constant in the ever sulking man.

Dick half-sat on the armrest of the chair and pointed out the picture. “That looks familiar to you, B?”

Bruce hummed. He didn’t even look up, but responded to the right picture. “It’s connected to the string of robberies from the across the West Coast and Mexico. It was the missing piece.” His fingers flew across the keyboard as he typed out the explanation of the pictures. "I'm sending it to the Justice League."

"How's Duke doing in it?"

"From the news recordings, he appears to work especially well with Irey and Jessica."

Dick tilted his head and grinned. "Figures that he'd get along with them best."

Bruce grunted.

"It's good that they're still taking your advice."

"They know better than to not. The League can't afford to lose any people. They're soft."

Dick's eyes narrowed. "Like you aren't."

"It wouldn't affect my ability to-"

"I'm not the League," Dick said softly. "I'm not Clark or Diana or Hal or J'onn or Barry. I'm not your coworkers, Bruce."

"Ex-coworkers," Bruce said after a pause, staring at the screen, the lines of white text on blue steadily increasing with every tap of his fingers. "And I know." It was said softer, and Dick loved the way it would go soft for him.

Dick reached out to squeeze Bruce's shoulder. He stood up, stretching, and said, "I'll go over the supplies we need to order for the medbay and possible suppliers since we ran out of antiseptic last time. Put that ol’ business degree to use."

Bruce paused in his typing to look at Dick. "You mean the business degree you never got." In the right light, Dick might've even said there was an amused smile on that face.

“I could’ve.”

“You should’ve. _I_ did. _Multiple_ times.”

Dick rolled his eyes. Now Bruce was just bragging, the intelligence-biased bastard. Like Bruce could’ve done a quadruple flip at nine.

“Touche. Two hundred degrees, huh? Guess that’s why they call you Mister Fahrenheit.”

“I only have twelve,” Bruce said blandly. “And it’s Mister Wayne to you.”

“Oh, is it?” Dick said, cheeks painful from his wide smile. He paused, eyes sparkling. “Too bad I didn’t take on your name when you adopted me. Then we could’ve been Mister Wayne, Mister Wayne, and Mister Wayne.”

“Dick.”

“That’s Mister Wayne to you, sir.”

 

 

 

Dick stretched his limbs, arching his back as he walked towards the main living room. Apparently spending several hours bent over yourself trying to fix cracks in tile was painful when you got to your thirties. He'd just about given up but Bruce was particular and even if he was too inbred with manners to say a thing, he'd get those little stress lines on his face. Over tiles. But it was his - their house. It held a lot more years of Bruce’s life though, and Dick didn’t make a habit of letting Bruce down. He trotted down the stairs, spotting Damian on one of the couches, arms wrapped around Titus and thumbs tapping his phone quickly.

Dick kept his leisurely pace, making sure not to alert Damian of his presence. Partially because Damian and Bruce did that to him all the time and partially because he wanted the chance to be nosy with Damian. See what all the kids these days were into.

When Dick looked over Damian’s shoulder, he hesitated and then pulled back.

It was Tim who Damian was texting back.

It had said, “Dinner?”

“7:00,” Damian typed quickly and sent before closing the screen. He turned slowly to look up at Dick, and when he tilted his chin up, it was a reflex for Dick to lean down and brush his lips against Damian’s.

When Damian pulled away, he asked, “Would you like me to give Drake your greetings?"

Dick offered him a crooked smile, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Don't think he wants them, but you're welcome to try."

Something swirled in the depths of Damian’s eyes, and Dick wanted to cup Damian’s cheeks and press his lips against his and breathe him in.

“Perhaps I’ll cancel then.”

“Don’t.”

“Grayson.”

“Damian.” Dick sighed, pushing his hair back to settle himself. “He’s your brother. He wants to see you and you want to see him... and. He wants to check on you; don’t make this harder for any of us than it has to be.”

Damian immediately recoiled at Dick’s words, eyes narrowing, and his fingers tightened around his phone before he turned away without another word.

Dick looked his little brother over, looked at the bedhead at the back of his head that he must not have caught in the morning. At the slope of his neck and the knobs of the beginning of his spine. Dick reached out to brush his fingers over that bared skin, thinking that he only had this right because he had stayed.

He leaned down to drop a kiss to Damian’s crown.

“Love you, doofus.”

Damian made a barely audible noise of irritation, but it was something. Dick took one last glance at Damian and then left to go make some food.

  
  
  


Dick opened the fridge, glancing through what they had. Some leftovers: mediterranean and some chicken parm. There were some tortillas on the side. Eggs. He can spy some heads of lettuce and a bag of spinach followed by some onions in one of the drawers. He hummed, considering the wheat toast. Then he closed the fridge door and went to the cabinet, pulling out a box of pancake mix.

Dick bobbed his head to the music he'd put on, getting out the pan and coating it in oil by tilting the pan.

There was the sound of the front door’s lock and the creak as it was pulled open and then shut. The click of a lock.

He turned up the heat.

It was only a little while later that Bruce appeared from the depths of the Cave.

He glanced at the pancakes, stopping in his tracks, and frowned. Dick sighed internally as Bruce went about hovering and pretending not to hover as he put the dried plates away, straightened the pile of coasters, and then came by to inspect the pancake box’s instructions.

“You’re cooking them too-”

“No, I’m not,” Dick said, without turning.

Bruce’s frown returned, and Dick's back stiffened further.

“Will you be making enough for all three of us?" Bruce asked, tone with a testing quality to it.

“Damian’s out for dinner with Tim.”

“...”

Bruce placed a palm along Dick’s lower back, a furnace against Dick’s skin. Dick didn’t acknowledge the movement, and only flipped his pancake.

“How many do you want?” Dick finally said.

“Three.”

Dick didn’t add anything after that, and Bruce simply stood there with him, watching the pancake cook. Dick reached for the plate he’d taken out earlier and scooped up the pancake onto it. Then he placed the plate back down and poured oil over the pan again, tilting the pan to spread it. Bruce’s hand didn’t move from his back.

He scooped up the batter to pour it onto the pan, hearing the sharp sizzle, before he zeroed in on the edges of the pancake, waiting for the requisite bubbles.

“He made his decision just like -”

“For fuck’s sake,” Dick said. “Let me make a pancake in peace, Bruce.”

“...alright.”

Dick finished making the next five pancakes in silence, putting another two on Bruce’s plate and the rest on his own. He turned off the stove and shifted the pan before he brought the plates on over to the table where Bruce was sitting. Bruce had already gotten the utensils, syrup and two mugs with coffee, his already half gone.

Bruce moved to start his plate, but paused when Dick passed his own seat to go to the fridge and take out a can of whipped cream and a tupperware, scooping some of its contents into a bowl. He passed by Bruce again going towards the microwave, and he stood there again, watching, the bowl spin around under the yellow light, whipped cream pressed to his chest. The microwave beeped, and then Dick took it over to the table, sitting down.

He covered his pancakes in the cinnamon apples liberally and then topped it evenly with the whipped cream.

Bruce did the same with a lot less whipped cream.

“They’re from Alfred’s orchard,” Dick said when he saw Bruce’s stare lingering after his first mouthful.

“Yeah, they tasted familiar,” Bruce murmured. He took another bite, and then said, “Thank you for maintaining the house and the garden.”

“It’s our house,” Dick said without a thought.

“I know. Thank you.”

“We could go pick up some stuff from Home Depot later if you’ve got time.”

“I’ve got time.”

Dick nodded, scooping up another bite. The pancakes melted in his mouth, the apples gooey with just the slightest hint of a crunch followed by that creaminess from the whipped cream. Better than the last time he’d made them, where he’d admittedly cooked the pancakes too long.

"-other interests."

Dick looked up in surprise at Bruce staring at him.

“What?”

“It’s good that you’ve found some other interests to fill your time.”

Dick blinked, and it took a moment before it registered that Bruce was referencing Dick taking on a lot of Alfred’s work. It was more of a kill three birds with one stone than anything, but Dick supposed it could become an interest overtime, learning to fix things.

“It's something to pass the time," Dick replied.

 

 

Dick finished placing the dishes on the drying rack and leaned his arm on the edge of the sink as he stretched his back.

He didn’t need work. Working as Nightwing and compiling all the data they took in, cross referencing, all of that was enough work to keep him busy for the rest of his life. What he missed one on one interactions with others. Working as a bartender, taxi driver, or a cop - all of those had fulfilled that need.

But there wasn’t a way for him to take on an everyday job in Gotham outside of Wayne Co. when Dick was so recognizable. It was a fact he’d resigned himself to.

He tilted the rack to drain the water before drying his hands.

Dick supposed if he was going to fix up the mansion, he should take it more seriously. He should be organized and methodical about it. Not only for efficiency, but it would help sharpen his mind. He didn't doubt that the upkeep of the mansion had kept Alfred's mind clear. Plus after spending that hour fixing scaffolding and then re-fixing his mistakes, he was starting to realize that he had better come up with a game plan before he drove himself crazy.

Dick went first to the less traveled parts of the mansion, all the extra bedrooms, studies, storage rooms and opened them up. Dick had been cleaning in bits and pieces in whatever spare time he’d had, but it’d only been the parts of the mansion they used regularly.

One of the bedrooms had a cracked window. Maybe from that time Damian had thought it’d be a good idea to brings his knives out for cleaning up the trees outside.

Another of them had floorboards that looked like they might be rotting. Dick stepped back quickly from that one.

Most of the rooms were in pretty good shape, having been untouched for most of their time. Dick stared into the one random room with floral bedding and wondered when was the last time all the rooms in the mansion had been filled. If they’d ever been filled. There were more than twenty, and even if each of them, Babs, Stephanie, Cass, Tim, Jason, Duke, Harper, and him and Damian each had unofficial official rooms kept for them here, that still left a number of the rooms untouched as far as Dick had ever seen.

He stepped back out of the room, having found nothing of note to fix there, just that it needed a dusting before he went to the next one, one that was his old bedroom.

It’d been a while since he’d gone in there. Not even during fights.

If anything, he’d just fall asleep in the Cave or at the dining room table while working to avoid going to bed.

He stepped into the rug and it felt like he was being transported back to when he was ten, hopping up the stairs two at a time, backpack banging against him as he rushed to pull out all his homework.

He’d been eager to get it done so he could be Robin. So he could finally fly again, Bruce at his side, and Dick, invincible because of it.

He ran his fingers over the throw on the mattress, folded neatly. It sent up a layer of dust.

Dick would never know how Alfred had always managed to keep the entire mansion clean himself.

He made a beeline for the closet and opened the door. He clicked on the light, revealing old clothes, clothing too young for him now probably, all those anime t-shirts Wally had gotten him as a joke. An old Great Frog cap in ostentatious colors. Superman shirts.  And in the back behind a few boxes of comic books, there was his old guitar.

In the light of the setting sun leaking in through the curtains, he picked up the old guitar and strummed a notes, sneezing at the layer of dust that came off with the vibration. He fiddled with the tuning and then, sat down on the edge of the bed, mindlessly playing the chorus to Space Oddity. He closed eyes and repeated the chorus again before he pressed a hand to the strings, abruptly cutting off the music.

He played a note and then stopped it again just as abruptly, the note lingering in the dusty room.

Then Dick stood up and walked back over the closet and neatly laid the guitar back on it's rack. He would come back to it one day. One day when he'd lost the both of them, was too old to fight, was too tired to fight. He'd come back to it then.

He walked out of the room, and let the dust settle back into that room.

 

 

It was pitch black outside when Dick walked in to find Bruce in his work office, frowning over his phone, grey hairs highlighted by the lamps’ yellow light, and he was about to make a joke, but he saw the screen. A USPS page, noting that a package had been failed to be delivered. To Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown. It said that the recipients no longer lived at that address. Anger rose in Dick's chest, and he wanted to walk away, but Bruce would never say a word when it came to people leaving him.

"It doesn't mean anything, Bruce," Dick said.

Bruce didn't stop staring at the screen. His expression smoothed out, and he said, "It means enough, Dick." He rose from his chair and then closed the screen and tucked the phone into his back pocket. "I believe you and Damian had been requesting pizza? He came back a while ago. It should be here within the next minute. I opened the gates for the delivery person just now."

Dick twisted his lips before he lets his expression switch. "1:00 a.m. pizza, huh? Getting us fat for patrol, I guess. So, pineapple and sausage?"

"And vegetarian for Damian."

"Lemme guess you ordered chicken, spinach, garlic - chopped a bit chunkier, red onions - half cooked, cilantro, and Alfredo sauce - skinny Alfredo sauce with less salt; the crust should be slightly burnt and stuffed with parmesan, mozzarella and a bit of ranch? "

Bruce frowned.  

Dick quirked a smile and said, "If I didn't know any better, I might say that that was extreme, but then I've seen the way you catalogue data. If I didn’t know better, I would think you liked excel sheets better than me."

"I stand by my decisions," Bruce said shortly, walking forward and Dick watched him. Bruce was even being open about it now, more or less, but Dick didn’t know why it drew him back to that memory.

He could still hear Bruce's words, his voice an infuriated scathing tone. "You have no right- no right to question me after all that you’ve done."

And Stephanie, incredulous and fuming, had turned her back.

 

 

There was one night early in their relationship that Dick had had pressed into his memory. It had been Damian, drunk after a party with the League after a big battle. They thought they'd lost an entire city, but the Justice Society had had their backs and had evacuated everyone.

But for the while they thought they had - for the while Clark had thought he'd lost Lois, that they thought they'd failed their friend and lost a woman none of them could dream of replacing, they'd been ruthless. Dick could remember seeing Wonder Woman's fists covered in blood and the sad, tired look on her face as she faced an Injustice League member down. Dick knew the numbers.

Paralysis for seven of those working on the other side. Three lost limbs. One of them had lost hearing, another sight. And those people would have done much worse to anyone in their way. Lasting wounds happened, Bruce used to tell him. They happened to both sides and Dick would have to move on from those. Try to avoid them, but if not possible, once any enemy was neutralized, Bruce told Dick they were expected them to help them. Physical therapy, any advances in medicine.

It's our responsibility to protect people. All people, Bruce had said.

And if they don't want you to, Dick had asked.

You do it anyway.

At that time, among the drunken minds and colored lights, no one had known about the three of them yet - they hadn't even really known about each other yet. Damian had said, entirely too coherent:

"Violence comes easy for me. Us. We do cruel things to stop crueler things. It would be better if we didn’t, but we do.”

Damian’s eyes had flickered over Dick’s profile, highlighted in blue and pink. “That is why we relate so well to them, isn’t it? Raw and unhinged and honest to their desires. We are a thin line from them. All we would have to do is be a little more honest. Father could become any of the scum we fight any day. He already has been. So have we.”

Dick had laughed, tipsy too and bathing in the subtle touches and looks Bruce had teased him with all night. "Then what makes us the heroes?"

Damian had looked up at him, raw and tired, "Aren't we just what others decide we are?"

"Are we bad for what we want?" Damian had asked on another night.

"Grayson?" Damian's voice had echoed, sounding lost in the Cave on a different day.

Dick opened his eyes and recalled that Damian had never worked with the League again after that party.

"Didn't they think Batman was a villain at first?" Damian had asked. "All different things are seen as dangerous, but we aren't hurting anyone."

He’d stared down at his lap, face sallow in the light. “I just love you and Father. I desire your touches.”

“Yeah,” Dick has said. “I know. I do too.”

 

 

Dick glanced out the window to where he knew there were three graves, the third one the newest addition, all of them polished and cared for daily by Damian.

He thought, after patrol tonight, he’d go then. Out to visit him for all that he’d never been able to forgive him and Bruce. For the way it’d eaten up the old butler until he’d died for letting it continue in this household of his because he’d seen them cling to each other.

It'd been a while, since he'd gone out there, after all. He'd make fun of Dick for that, for never coming home to see him. In the end, he'd probably wished that Dick wasn't there as frequently.

As Dick zipped up his suit in the hallways of the manor, he looked out at the falling snow. It was cold, even in here.

His footsteps never faltered as he walked down to the entrance of the Cave to meet them. He knew not to let it show, knew he couldn't let it show. Regret was a product of indecision, and Dick had decided and thrown everything else away because of the way their gazes settled on him and centered him. Everything else was already forgotten before it even became a choice.

He nodded to Damian who was already set, checking over his wrist pad, and to Bruce who scanned them over.

There was a movement from him.

Batman knelt down, and Dick nearly leapt back in surprise, when he straightened Dick’s boot and checked the electric field. Dick stared down at the smooth black cowl and the pointed ears. It was only a moment that felt far too long before Bruce moved onto Damian’s, a frown visible from Dick’s point of view. He seemed to toy with the extra features Damian added with obvious distaste - like a man in a bat costume could say that - before his immense figure rose back up to face them.

Just a man, Dick thought, just a man, he thought as though the sight of Bruce in that cowl had ever failed to incite chills through his body and send his blood thrumming through his veins.

“Let’s go,” Batman said, voice gravel-deep.

Dick and Damian nodded in silence, and then they moved in unison, only shadows flickering in the night, silent enough that the pin drops of water dripping from stalactites could be heard echoing throughout the cave.

 


End file.
